until I reach the love I'm longing to see
by KillianJones
Summary: "We have to stop meeting like this." "We have to stop meeting at all," She grumbled, crossing her arms. "Nothing personal, just with you being a Templar and all." CS/Dragon Age AU, follows the events of Inquisition (with some of my own play-though choices). I don't think you need to have played the game to understand the story.


_One last stream to cross, one last hill to wander;_

 _Until I reach the love I'm longing to see;_

 _O, I know she is there._

* * *

The first time he saw her, she saved him from an untimely death. She was not carrying her staff–he would later learn it had been broken in a battle with a rogue Templar and left rendered useless–but her powerful magic had saved him nonetheless. In the midst of a heated battle between Templars and apostates, somewhere in the Hinterlands, a wave of electricity had flashed past him, close enough for him to feel the tingling sensation as it brushed past his face when he turned around to look at her, but not too close for it to hurt him.

She stared at him in silence and unmoving, her green eyes were wide, her hand still steadily outstretched before her, electricity sparking from her fingertips, making sure she could respond as soon as he moved.

But he didn't.

He was as frozen in place as she was. But he doubted it was for the same reasons.

He did not know what had captured him first, the fact that she was a Mage, and his first instinct was to tie her up and bring her back to the nearest circle. Or her beauty. But even as the foe that could have killed him lay on the ground behind him, his last breath long past his lips, he found himself staring at her.

Yes, she was a Mage–an apostate even–but unlike any other apostate out there fighting this battle, she had not attacked him, but protected him.

Her initial fear ebbed from her eyes and made place for a questioning look that he understood easily. _What will it be, Templar, will you let me go, or will you take me away?_

His instincts screamed at him, all Mages should be in a circle, if not, they were apostates and dangerous.

Though, there was the matter of her just having saved his life. He owed her, but to what extent?

A sigh fell from his lips and he nodded once. Her hand shaped into a fist and fell by her side as she understood. He saw the look of gratitude that graced her features before he turned around. Perhaps it was not very clever to turn your back on a Mage, but he knew they would come to an understanding this way: _I did not see you, you did not see me._

And so they parted ways.

* * *

The second time he saw her, he dragged her down behind a tall rock, only barely managing to hide her and himself from the giant that walked by.

She'd looked at him with wide, fearful eyes, but his hand covering her mouth kept her from screaming out.

It took her a moment, but she eased when she finally recognised him.

 _Be silent._

The Mage nodded as she understood his unspoken command and he removed his hand from her mouth.

The ground shook with each step as the giant moved past at a slow pace, and with each step the Mage moved closer, searching safety but only finding it in the form of him.

It seemed enough for her.

She stood close enough for her warm breath to tickle the cold skin of his neck. He couldn't explain it, but somehow he knew that if she'd bury herself into his arms searching for safety, he'd let her.

He didn't even know her name, or the sound of her voice. She was an unknown Mage. by all accounts he should want her to keep her distance.

She looked up as the giant's footsteps were a mere echo, and allowed him to take her hand so that they could make a run for it in the opposite dissection.

They ran until they reached a small lake, out of breath he knelt down to take some water in his cupped hands.

Turning around, with the intention of urging her to do the same, revealed her already preparing to say goodbye.

 _I saved you, you saved me. We're even now, right?_

Killian nodded.

And once more, without a single word spoken, they parted ways–he never did learn what she was doing out there in a field of giants.

* * *

The third time they met, he'd been injured. An arrow had punctured straight through his side, he tried to make a run for it, but he'd barely made it a few feet far before he fell to the ground. Not quite dead, but close.

His enemy surely must have expected him to be gone, for when his eyes fell closed, he was all alone in the empty forest.

He expected to wake up to the sight of the Maker, but he had to admit, the sight of her blonde curls as she hovered over him was far more pleasant.

She didn't realise he was awake just yet if her focused frown was any indication. He didn't quite see what she was doing, but he felt the warmth accompanied by a soft glow. His pain eased as her frown turned into a small smile. Maker, she was beautiful.

That's when she finally noticed him stare, the smile disappeared and the frown returned.

He watched her walk away from her spot by his side, to a bucket on the counter where she washed her bloodstained hands, before walking out of the kitchen. A deep breath fell over his lips, almost leaving him to feel like he hadn't been able to breathe properly when she was with him.

He was in a kitchen, that much he knew. A servant's kitchen. So he was in a mansion or a villa. Yet, by the serious lacking of food–he only saw a loaf of bread–in this kitchen, he reasoned it was one of the abandoned ones. He knew the Inquisition had cleared out some of those, he also knew that sometimes people seeking refuge would hide out in them for a few days.

The stove had been burning for a while, because even if she had removed his shirt, he wasn't cold. Or perhaps it was her magic still running through his body.

His injury was completely gone, the stinging he still felt was slowly fading. With a soft grunt, he sat up, his bare feet dangling of the side of the kitchen table. He remembered running through a river, leaving his feet cold and wet.

Killian looked up as she entered the kitchen again and offered him a small pile of clothes–clean socks and a new shirt.

"Thank you." She jerked her head up at him as if she hadn't expected him to speak up. Truthfully, it would have been like their usual encounter; we save each other's lives, but we do not speak whilst doing so.

And while he would love to continue on that tradition, he would much rather know her name–or at the very least, the sound of her voice.

But she only nodded.

"Please," He said before she could walk away from him again. "I confess you have been in my thoughts these past few weeks, and it's been killing me not knowing your name."

"You are wrong," She spoke. He didn't know what he expected her voice to sound like, but three words and he was already convinced hers was the most beautiful voice he'd ever heard. "It was an arrow that almost killed you." He chuckled and shook his head. "Besides, you cannot almost die again, it is your turn to save me now."

"Aye." Killian laughed. She didn't want to tell him her name. And somehow he reasoned that pushing for it would make it worse. "We have to stop meeting like this."

"We have to stop meeting at all," She grumbled, crossing her arms. "Nothing personal, just with you being a Templar and all."

"I would agree," He answered, pulling the shirt she'd given him over his head. It fit almost perfectly, leaving him to wonder where she'd acquired it. "But I would have been dead if it wasn't for you. Twice now. I have to admit I am not too opposed to us finding each other each time before it is too late."

She only hummed at that, turning her back to him to cut off two pieces of bread and handed one to him.

"Is this where you live?"

"Sort of? The owners abandoned it after rebels flooded the place. After the Inquisition cleared it, they didn't use it and some of us kind of took up residence. The Inquisition knows we're here," She explained. "I'm only here when I need shelter. I try not to stay in one place too long at a time."

"Why not?" He asked, putting a piece of bread in his mouth. He didn't realise just how starved he was until he was given food.

"Too many Mages in one place attracts attention." She answered, cutting a second piece of bread for him. "It's why you were here, isn't it?"

"No," Killian answered. "The Inquisitor asked me to check up on the place." It wasn't a complete lie. Sometimes refugees need better shelter than the old abandoned villas or mansions, or required medicine. Sometimes Mages wanted to join their cause but they weren't sure how. But the moment the Inquisitor informed him that a Mage fitting her description–among other Mages–had been sighted around these parts, he immediately volunteered to scout out for them.

"You're with the Inquisition?" She asked as he propped bread in his mouth. With his mouth full, he only managed a hum and a nod of his head. "I suppose that explains why you are a Templar that is not actively trying to kill me."

Killian swallowed down the bread and managed a grin. "It does, doesn't it?"

She gave him a soft smile at that. "Emma," She said then. "My name is Emma."

"A pleasure, Emma, I'm Killian," He introduced himself with a nod of his head. "Now, Emma, are you here alone?"

She crossed her arms at that, her shoulders tensed, and her feet slightly apart.

"Poorly formulated question," Killian chuckled, scratching behind his ear. "I apologise. I only wanted to know if perhaps, there was interest in joining the Inquisition. If there are more of you here, I would gladly accompany you to Skyhold."

"There is no need," She spoke carefully. "We are perfectly safe here."

"Very well. Should that change, however, it's a standing offer." Killian hopped off the table, any ache from his injury long gone. "Now, I've already overstayed my welcome. Thank you for saving my life once more, Emma."

"You're welcome, Killian."

* * *

She watched him carefully from across the ballroom, from the moment their eyes met, he had not been able to look away–then again, neither had she. Funny, how he'd recognised her, even though she wore an Orlesian mask, and her red gown was a far cry from the clothes she usually wore.

He worried for her, what was she doing here, and was she aware of the dangers lurking around the corner tonight?

The Inquisitor came to stand beside him, informing him of their plan, and inquiring after anything he'd been able to overhear.

"Nothing useful," Killian answered, shrugging. "I've forwarded any scandalous secrets to Leliana."

"Good," Inquisitor Trevelyan replied, looking around the ballroom before popping her lips. "I saw a woman here earlier, looking much like the Mage you often encounter."

"Yes," He said, searching across the room but unable to find her. "She's here, though I haven't a clue as to why."

"Perhaps you should ask her?"

Killian shook his head. "It's none of my business. And I'd prefer to avoid her. One of us tends to be hurt whenever we are near each other."

The Inquisitor chuckled, her laugh attracting the attention of Commander Cullen. The Commander smiled softly–not that she noticed. "Perhaps now is the time to meet her under more favourable circumstances."

"Perhaps," Killian said.

"Enjoy your evening, Knight-Lieutenant."

She took a small bow which he quickly returned. "And you, Inquisitor." Of course, it seemed like a silly thing to say, when her tasks tonight included preventing an empire from breaking out into war, and making sure an Empress wouldn't be assassinated. But what else was there to say? Bye Inquisitor, please don't send Orlais into a war? The fate of this country lies in your hands, make good choices?

She only smiled before she left him, making her way towards Cullen. She told him something Killian couldn't quite hear, but it made Cullen blush, so truly it could have been anything. The man was infatuated with her and everyone could see it.

Killian sighed, shaking his head slightly. If his Knight-Commander could fall in love with a Mage, then why couldn't he? What stopped him from allowing himself to fall in love but his own beliefs?

"So deeply lost in thought," A voice sounded beside him. He'd only heard it for the briefest moment, but he recognised it immediately. She stood next to him, her bright, green eyes glistering in the ballroom lights as she watched him curiously.

"I must have been, if I did not notice you coming closer," Killian replied.

Emma smiled, tracing her fingers over the embroidery of her gown. She did not look like the wild apostate she usually resembled, but even in Orlais' ridiculous fashion, she looked beautiful with her hair pinned up, and wearing an elaborate gown. Her face was hidden behind a mask, as most guests' faces were tonight. It was their game, and she fit right in, but he would recognise her anywhere.

"The Inquisition is here tonight?" Emma spoke quietly. He nodded. "So, something _is_ wrong, isn't it?"

He turned toward her fully, lowering his voice. "Why are you here, Emma?"

"Invitation from a friend," She replied calmly. "She required something I could procure for her."

"And what was that?"

Emma frowned, crossing her arms. "Why do you care?"

"Because someone is going to assassinate the Empress and if you know anything that might help us in figuring it out, it could be helpful."

She nodded. "My friend is not the one you should be looking at. In fact, I believe she has helped your Inquisitor tonight. If I were you, I'd look at the people closest to her, the ones who stand to gain by her death. Briala, Gaspard, Florianne. Please excuse me."

He reached for her arm before she could step too far away, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. "Where are you going?"

"We are not friends, Killian, I don't have to answer to you."

"No, you are correct," He pursed his lips, "Be careful, though."

"It is your turn to save me now, I am sure that whatever mess I get myself into, you will be there to save me." Emma smiled, taking a little bow before stepping away from him and disappearing into the crowd.

He saw her a few more times after that, once he caught her eye from across the room, watching him as intently as he watched her. Another time he saw her dance with a nobleman, though he doubted her intentions lied with dancing for the purpose of actually dancing. The last time he saw her, he watched her leave through the doors that led to the vestibule. It took all he had not to follow her. But she had been right, they weren't friends. He had no right desiring to spend time with her, they barely knew each other.

And yet.

As he walked through the Hall of Heroes he had the odd sense of being watched, but looking around the room revealed that none of the people in the hall had their eye on him.

Until he caught a flash of red in the corner of his eye.

Looking up, he saw her lean with her elbows on the balustrade, looking down at him. She'd taken off her mask, little tendrils of hair framed her face. And Maker save him, she looked stunning. He stared at her for a long moment, he must've looked foolish, with his lips parted, gazing at her as though he watched Andraste herself descend upon the earth.

But she cared not.

She watched him with a soft look in her eyes, her lips curved into the smallest smile.

It was not until she looked back to the door that he realised she stood in a restricted area, but he followed her unspoken guidance. Making his way back to the vestibule, then up the stairs. The Inquisitor had told her advisors of the places she'd been in the palace, so he was not too surprised to find a door that was supposed to be locked unlocked.

Stepping into the library, he found her immediately. Her back turned to him as she browsed through the books on the ceiling-high shelves.

"I have never seen a library that was not filled solely with books about magic," Emma said, taking a book from the shelf and studying it.

"You were in a circle?" Killian questioned, leaning against the table. He took the mask she'd discarded in his hands, tracing his fingers over its outline to keep his hands busy, _mostly_.

She turned to face him and nodded. "Until I was fifteen, and then a small group of us managed to escape. My parents dumped me into a circle as soon as I showed any sign of magic, so I'd never known anything else, but being the youngest of the group they took care of me." She sighed deeply and returned the book to its shelf. "I don't know why I told you that."

"It's all right," Killian said, laying the mask back on the table.

"Were you in one?" She asked quietly, taking another book in her hands. It almost seemed like a sign of trust. Her hands were her main defence, that she kept them busy meant she trusted him, that she knew she wouldn't need them.

"I was. Kirkwall, for a few years… You know, until it went _boom_."

Emma blurted out a laugh, quickly bringing a hand to her mouth at her outburst. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Killian said, unable to hide his smile at her adorable outburst. "After that, I sort of followed Cullen to the Inquisition and–."

Suddenly she held her finger to his lips in order to silence him, her voice a low whisper as she spoke. "Someone is coming."

"Well there isn't really a way out so… Do we hide? Run?"

She smiled, tilting her head adorably, before grabbing his hands within hers and tugging him closer. "How about a distraction?"

"Of wh–"

He could not finish his sentence, for his lips were on hers before he reached the end of it. A brief moment of surprise was quickly replaced by a hungry answer of her kiss. With his hands on her waist, and hers around his neck, pushing her softly against the bookshelf as he deepened the kiss.

The sound of someone scraping their throat behind them prevented him from getting very lost in the kiss, though admittedly, he was ruined the moment her lips touched his.

They turned around quickly, their getting caught act only half feigned.

A guard stood behind them, he seemed somewhat amused at catching two of them in the act of a passionate kiss.

"This is a restricted area," He informed them, in that funny Orlesian accent.

"It is?" Emma asked, her voice as sweet as honey. "The door was unlocked."

"It should not have been."

"I apologise," Killian said, finally having found his voice. "It is my fault, I desired her kiss so much, I _had_ to steal her away from her company and bring her somewhere quiet. I mean, look at her, I am certain you understand."

The guard grinned and shook his head amusedly. "Next time find somewhere in the garden, I'm sure there are plenty of remote spots there."

"Yes," Emma said, grabbing Killian's hand within hers and snatching her mask from the table with her other before walking away. "It won't happen again!"

She didn't release his hand as they walked through the vestibule, and somehow it made him feel like a teenager in love, holding hands with the girl he liked for the first time. He felt a bit silly for having the thought, but then she stopped walking and looked at him with a wide smile.

"Distractions always work."

"They certainly do," He replied, using his free hand to scratch behind his ear. "You left me very distracted indeed."

Emma laughed, slowly releasing his hand as the bell rang. "I should go, perhaps we might share a dance, later? After you've saved Orlais and all that?"

"Yes," Killian spoke, dearly hoping he didn't sound too eager. "I should like that."

"Good." She smiled and put her mask back on before making her way back to the ballroom.

So the night continued on. Plans were made. Secrets were shared. Affairs were exposed. The Grand Duchess betrayed an empire. The Empress was assassinated. A night like any in Orlais.

He did not see her again until the nation was spoken to by the new Emperor Gaspard–though Briala would be the one in charge–and the Empire was at peace once more. He found himself staring at the gardens of the Winter Palace when she joined him.

"So… Florianne betrayed us all," She started quietly.

"Yes."

"And Gaspard is in charge now."

"Yes."

"But really it's Briala, isn't it?"

Killian shook his head with a soft chuckle, "I would ask how you knew, but I believe you somehow have a bigger part in all of this than you might admit."

"Not at all," Emma said, inching a bit closer. "I simply happen to be in the right place, at the right time, all the time."

"So it seems," He answered and instinctively leant closer as well. "It's a shame we never did get that dance."

"There is still time," She offered, giving him an almost shy smirk.

Killian chuckled and took a step back to offer her his hand. "Milady?"

Dancing with her was easy, she fit so well in his arms. She followed his lead as though they'd done nothing else in their entire lives.

He hoped so dearly for her to kiss him again before their time was up, but she never did. Instead, she walked away from him with a faint smile, and a promise that they would see each other again.

Somehow he didn't doubt that.

* * *

Returning to Skyhold after their latest adventure was like drinking water after having had none for three days. Finally he felt as though he wasn't dying anymore. And he himself hadn't even been in the Fade. He'd fought for hours on end, demon after demon. Until it finally stopped and the Inquisitor appeared from the Fade once more.

Hawke was one of the many casualties and somehow Killian counted himself lucky that he wasn't the one who had to break the news to Varric.

"Go to the infirmary, all right, see what they can do, then join us in the war room?" The Inquisitor patted his shoulder before taking her council to the war room. Killian sighed deeply before obeying. Really, he wanted to sleep, deal with the consequences of his shattered hand later, but he knew the Inquisitor was right.

He retold the tale to the Mage tending the wounded, one demon had managed to smash him against the ground around the same time another Pride Demon emerged from the Fade and stepped right on him. Or rather his shield–and thus his hand. He'd felt the bones crack, and Cullen had dragged him from underneath the demon before it could fully step onto him and crush his entire body.

The Mage nodded as he recounted each event as she used her healing magic on his hand. It did not feel as warm and tingly as Emma's had done when she healed him–and a sudden smiled appeared on his lips at how this was the first time he'd been near a certain death and she hadn't been there to save him. Though, was it not his turn to save her now?

His hand still hurt when the Mage told him it was all she could do for him. He had trouble stretching his fingers, and clenching his hand felt as though it was being stabbed by a thousand needles. The Mage offered that the pain would become lesser eventually, or perhaps even fade completely, but for now he would live with the pain and scarred hand.

The Inquisitor wasn't a tyrant, and the Inquisition wasn't a prison, if Killian truly wanted to go out on a mission he just could. But she strongly advised against it nonetheless–at the very least until his hand wasn't hurting so much.

For weeks he practised sword fighting with his aching hand, his sword in his right hand, his shield in his left. Sure, asking The Iron Bull to help out might not have been his greatest plan so far, and each time Bull's sword clashed with his shield it felt as though a Pride Demon had stepped on it all over again, but he found himself getting used to the pain while fighting faster and faster.

He had just walked out of the War Room–after convincing the Inquisitor that he was well enough to join them on their quest to the Temple of Mythal, much to her amusement–when a messenger informed him that a woman by the name of Emma was looking for him.

He could scarcely hide his smile as he fastened his pace and made his way outside. From the top of the staircase he saw her stand by the gate, her arms wrapped around herself in an attempt to make herself as small and invisible as possible. She looked around carefully, examining the people with a frown plastered on her face like she wasn't too sure what to make of their Inquisition.

Emma only noticed him coming her way when he reached the final steps of the stairs, that's when she ran towards him so fast that she crashed into him, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

"You're all right," She mumbled softly.

As the surprise wore off ever so slightly, he slowly laid his arms around her. His heart pounded heavily in his chest as she nuzzled her head in his neck and took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm fine," He whispered.

"I heard you were–"

Killian chuckled. "Were you worried for me, love?"

Her breath was warm on his skin as she scoffed, and then she pulled back slightly, laying her hands on his chest, her fingers toying with the fabric of his coat. "So what if I was?"

He shrugged faintly. "I'm a survivor, darling, no need to worry about me."

"I can name at least two situations in which you could have died and –"

" _Could_ have," He interrupted her with a grin. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Yes," Emma answered quietly, and finally she smiled, the tense expression fading from her features.

She'd come all the way to Skyhold, just to make certain he was all right. And here she stood, wrapped up in his arms. She was beautiful, and gorgeous, and stunning, and he knew he didn't know enough words to describe her beauty.

Killian also knew he was in love with her. Very deeply in love with her.

"I should go," She whispered as she traced her cold fingers along his jaw.

"Don't," He pleaded.

"I never meant to stay I only wanted to be sure you were all right."

"It will be dark soon," Killian offered quickly. "The mountains can be dangerous at night, please, stay until the morning comes. There's plenty of space."

She smiled then, and he knew he had convinced her. He gave her a room not too far from his own, lingering by her door as they bid each other goodnight after having talked for hours during a tour of the fortress.

When she kissed his cheek before closing the door of her assigned room, he knew the tips of his ears had coloured red, and the wide smile that appeared on his lips must've made him look like an idiot.

But he cared not.

* * *

"So you'll be joining them?" Emma asked, breaking the silence, but not looking away from the view. They'd taken breakfast together, and after introducing her to the Inquisitor–who tried her hardest to act like Killian had never mentioned Emma before, Maker bless her soul–Killian had asked her for one last walk over the battlements to look at the view she'd enjoyed so much the previous day.

"I will."

She only nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. Though they'd spent most of last night and their breakfast together–laughing, talking, perhaps even flirting–Emma was quiet now. Upon her silence, Killian took a few steps closer, until he stood with his chest against her back and brought his lips to her ear.

"I promise I'll be careful?" He offered with a teasing grin.

She sighed, letting her head rest against his shoulder and allowing him to lay his arms around her. "Perhaps I _should_ join. I believe it is my turn to save you now, you know, should you manage to get yourself into trouble."

He grinned. " _Is_ it your turn? You saved me from the arrow, the last time."

"And then I saved us from that guard at the Winter Palace. Yes, now that you mention it, your turn is _long_ overdue."

"Oh dear," Killian sighed dramatically, "How _will_ I make it up to you?"

"A kiss, perhaps?" She wondered cheekily, and tilted her head up towards him. He smiled, more than willing to comply, had it not been for a soldier informing him that the Inquisitor had summoned a war council.

"Bloody hell," He muttered, only _just_ not rolling his eyes.

"It's fine," Emma whispered, stepping from his embrace.

Finally both had been bold enough to outright say what they wanted, and now he would have to go. With the chance being that she would leave Skyhold in his absence.

"It _really_ isn't."

She giggled then, bringing her lips to his cheek. "I promise I will still be here when you return," She said and kissed his cheek gently.

Killian forced a smile on his lips and excused himself from her company.

* * *

Often he enjoyed war council, he felt it was an honour. After having led an excursion to save a handful of Templars from Corypheus' grasp, Cullen had asked him to join them in the war room to talk over the events of the excursion. The next council the Inquisitor invited him once again, and eventually he became a part of the council, though, still mostly receiving his orders from Cullen.

And he enjoyed every minute of it.

Just not today.

The Inquisitor had decided their journey to the Arbor Wilds must commence as soon as possible, and so they spent most of the afternoon going over strategic plans, sending ravens, dispatching a small group of soldiers to set up a camp.

It was dark by the time they exited the war room, the Inquisitor telling them all to have a good night's rest, before they separated, each to their respective quarters.

Except for Killian, he made his way to Emma's room in the hope that she had not yet gone to bed and that she was still waiting for him. Except she wasn't there at all, and upon asking around, no one had seen her in a while.

After accepting that she had left Skyhold in his absence, he slowly made his way to his room. That's where he found her, sitting on his bed with a book in her lap. A breath of relief escaped him at the sight of her.

"Hey," She said quietly, rising from his bed.

"Hey," He replied, just as softly.

"I didn't mean to scare you," Emma offered, stepping closer. "I wasn't sure if _you_ would come to _my_ room if given the chance, you are a proper gentleman after all." She stopped just a few feet in front of him, he noticed her chest rising and falling quickly. "And I guess I really wanted to have that kiss, before our chance passed."

Killian smiled, taking two large steps to close the gap between them, his lips on hers again felt like coming to the surface after drowning for so long.

Her arms wrapped around his neck as she tugged him closer to her, her body flush against his. Her kiss was a hungry one, desperately clinging to him for Maker only knew however long they still had.

Tomorrow wouldn't be the final battle, but they could lose each other nonetheless.

And they'd only just found each other.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifted her up–her legs easily wrapping around his waist–and brought her to his bed, laying her down on the cool sheets.

"Sleep with me," She pleaded breathlessly.

* * *

After the fight was won, Emma had come with them back to Skyhold without him even having to ask it.

She took care of his hand after confessing that it had hurt him during battle, and he dabbed at a cut on her cheek inflicted by a Templar's sword.

They learned to be around each other in the weeks that passed. It was new for him, trusting a Mage so completely, when all he'd learnt his entire life was how dangerous Mages were when you weren't paying attention.

But she had to learn to trust him in return, nights were especially difficult for her, after having slept in hostile environments for years. But soon a time came when she would finally sleep through the night, curled up like a cat against his side.

He awoke before her, years of Templar duties and all that, but he loved watching her wake up; groaning softly as she stretched, pressing her body firmer against his so as to hide from the early morning sun that poured through his little window, cascading golden rays of sunlight onto the bed where she lay in his arms.

And for a brief moment, each morning as she woke in his arms, he almost forgot that there was a war going on.

He also quickly learnt that waking up to the sight of her was his favourite thing to do. Well... second favourite.

He quite enjoyed fighting with her by his side, she had his back, and he had hers. And watching her fight her way through the demons, and other enemies, like the force of nature she was, was a sight to behold.

Still, on the eve of the final battle, he sat before the statue of Andraste in Skyhold's little chapel, a quick prayer for his Inquisitor, for all those who would be in the midst of the battle, and for his love. To keep her safe–even if she was more than capable of doing that on her own.

"Killian?" Her voice sounded softly as he neared the end of his prayer.

"Are you leaving?"

"Yes."

He nodded, rising to his feet and turning to face her. She looked beautiful, standing in the doorway, the setting sun illuminating her.

"I still think I should come with you," Killian said, crossing his arms in front of himself. Only a handful of people were allowed to go, and since his hand had hurt him more in the previous battle than he had initially dared to admit, he was asked to sit this one out, upon which Emma volunteered to go in his stead.

The Inquisitor had welcomed the help, though she also knew that when it came down to it, only she and her squad would be fighting Corypheus. But there was never a shortage of demons to be fought.

Emma walked closer, standing on the tips of her toes to press a soft kiss upon his lips.

"Be safe?"

"I'll be fine, and we will see each other again," She promised.

He cupped her face between his hands and kissed her once more. "I love you."

"And I love you."

He felt a little lost after she left, briefly conversing with Cullen and Josephine before spending all his time walking on the battlements staring out at the mountains, hoping to see any sign of them returning.

The night that fell was a beautiful, if not cold one, the moon illuminated the snow on the mountains, the stars were bright. And somehow it seemed impossible that somewhere out there, they were fighting a battle that could mean the end of the world if they lost.

Suddenly he noticed a faint light in the distance, followed by a soldier yelling "they've returned!"

Killian smiled, making his way down the stairs, joining Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine as they cleared a path between everyone that had gathered, to welcome the Inquisitor back to Skyhold and congratulate her.

Everyone started clapping and cheering from the moment they walked through the fortress' gates, the Inquisitor up front, followed by everyone who had helped her fight Corypheus.

His heart skipped a beat as he finally saw Emma at the back of the group, a faint bruise forming on her cheek, but otherwise unharmed.

She smiled at him, quickening her pace until she fell into his arms.

"Are you all right?" He asked her, pressing kisses against her temple.

"Other than a few bruises and scrapes, I'm all good."

"Good," He smiled and kissed her, his hand buried in her hair, the other on her waist, tugging her as close to him as possible.

Instead of joining the celebrations Josephine had organised on her own–not that he, or anyone else, hadn't offered their help, she simply wanted everything to be as best as could be in such a short time–he walked with Emma over the battlements. Standing still on the place they'd almost shared their first kiss. It seemed so long ago, even if it had only been a few short months. Months that had been defined by battle upon battle.

And yet here they stood, their final battle won, there would be no doom upon all the world–as the Chantry verse goes. Instead they now had time to be with each other, to figure things out, and perhaps they'd remain with the Inquisition, or perhaps they'd go their own way. Maybe they'd fight dragons together, or maybe save another empire. Travel across Thedas, she'd only ever been to Orlais and Ferelden before.

They had all the time in the world to figure it out.

You know… Until another man with delusions of being a God came along.


End file.
